


Observation

by mozarteffect



Series: Vegeta's Guide to Relationships [4]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Character study? Maybe?, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Heads up (again) this mentions + discusses rape, Mild Angst, No I still don't hate Yamcha, No but seriously why was that the funnii tee hee joke bulma is so troublesome lol!!1, Nobody asked for a sympathetic angle or a character piece on Bulma but I'm doing it, On BOTH SIDES, Set in the 3 Year Gap but not about it, Sort of because we know how Vegeta loves ruining things for himself, Vegeta is a prude don't @ me, Vegeta is awkward, alternate perspective, because again OG was reeeeeally not great about that, but there's some self-awareness at least, it's just their relationship was reeeeeally kinda...toxic, nobody's perfect, relationship building, trust building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26445676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozarteffect/pseuds/mozarteffect
Summary: Not that Vegeta would know, but while he was struggling with the series of events leading up to Something Actually Nice happening, Bulma had her own thoughts and feelings going on in that genius brain of hers. About her relationships, about the future, about...well, the enigmatic guest she freely invited into her house.(A bonus episode of sorts for the Vegeta's Guide to Relationships series)
Relationships: Bulma Briefs & Vegeta, Bulma Briefs & Yamcha, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Series: Vegeta's Guide to Relationships [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913092
Comments: 23
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What it says in the summary, I decided to do a bonus episode showing Bulma's perspective on everything, because I still couldn't believe I restrained myself and kept the series in Vegeta's perspective the WHOLE time. Uhhhh, idk guys, enjoy it.

Of the decisions Bulma Briefs had made in her life, inviting Vegeta to stay at her house...actually was not one of the worst. Yamcha was edgy around him for a while, insisted over and over again that she must have not been thinking straight and needed to reconsider, Bulma simply told him that if he didn't like it he could leave. Unlike Vegeta, Yamcha had the means of getting another place and was familiar with the planet.

(Not to mention, though she knew he wasn't saying it maliciously, it bridled her to have it said that she "wasn't thinking" in any capacity. Of _course_ she was, she was a genius. She never _stopped_ thinking, another thing he _also_ complained about. _Make up your mind! Am I thinking_ too _much or not enough!?_ )

It would be poetic to say that Vegeta's presence started to reveal the cracks in her relationship with Yamcha.

It would be, maybe, but it would be wrong. The two had been aware of their constant strain in their relationship long before Vegeta came along, they had talked about it calmly and angrily at different points over the years. Their friends were aware of their not very stellar relationship as well, although (Bulma didn't want to admit how much that hurt her) they unquestionably (and not even _subtly_ ) put the blame on her for all of the issues.

 _"Didn't_ you _chase him off?"_ Krillin had sardonically sighed at her post Goku's death.

 _How the hell would_ you _know?!_ Bulma had wanted to say in response. Was it Yamcha? Did he drunkenly dial Krillin whining about how Bulma snapped at him saying she didn't like how often he passively allowed girls to hang off him when they were out? Was it so unreasonable to get annoyed with that? She wouldn't say she didn't cause _any_ arguments in their precarious relationship, of course, she was aware how strong-minded she could be.

(She questioned to herself whether there was something to Yamcha's grumbles that at least the stranger-danger women paid attention to him while she was busy with work.)

Ultimately, however, Bulma couldn't permanently end things with Yamcha, even while she was aware that the ship had sunk long ago and ghosts were the only crew left. That would imply giving up, that would imply that the wonderful destined meeting that they had was really just a random occurrence in the universe and nothing fanciful.

(But it was, her scientific mind told her, there's no such thing as destiny and epic true romances.)

That would signify she had completely wasted her _time_ with going through the motions of changing her life and desires around to fit with Yamcha's just for the purpose of making it work. Did she want to get married? No. Did she want to have kids? No. Did she want to act more like a "proper" wife? No. It wasn't that Bulma was opposed to that sort of thing for other people...it just wasn't for her. The idea of settling down and being the happy housewife was something for women like her mother, for like Chi-Chi, those things genuinely made them happy! But for Bulma...it would be Hell. It would be proving the people who sneered at her that women just didn't _belong_ in science and she was only there because of her father's fame right.

Maybe if the man she was with was all right with her working.

But Yamcha wasn't. He complained about it because it took time away from him. He didn't (couldn't, wouldn't) engage with her talks about ideas that she had. He tutted her for having oil under her fingernails, said she could "do better" when she wasn't wearing makeup. Bulma made it a point to not let him in her workshop at all or see her unless she had scrubbed every last bit of evidence that she had been working from her. (Yes, she cared about her appearance, but she cared about it because it made _her_ feel good. Maybe Yamcha thought he was being helpful in pointing it out. He wasn't. It made her feel _bad_ about her appearance.)

Yet...when Bulma wanted to spend time with Yamcha, where was he? Out with his friends, out training, who knows what. Was it punishment? To have her feel lonely in retaliation for making him feel lonely?

No, Yamcha didn't have a mean bone in his body, she scolded herself. It was just bad timing.

( _But I don't deserve this. I can do better than this. I think I'd rather be single than deal with_ this _._ )

Honestly, Vegeta had been a breath of fresh air amid all of the black and white static that filled up her head whenever she considered things with Yamcha. Despite her boyfriend's insistence that Vegeta was up to something, the Saiyan mostly kept to himself.

Bulma was never one to let things alone, though, and tried to include Vegeta in whatever she could without _totally_ going over his boundaries. He wasn't going to engage in any of the get togethers she would arrange, of course, but she could make snacks for him. (He seemed especially fond of traditional food types, which was handy as Bulma already knew how to cook that from when Goku stayed over.) He wasn't going to casually talk to her about the weather, of course, but she could bounce ideas off of him about his training equipment. In that, she even had the privilege of picking his brain about technology in space.

Sometimes he was almost polite when they talked. At least, he didn't make commentary about how she looked dirty and needed to "fix herself up" before going out like Yamcha would when he called. Vegeta didn't give a damn about how she looked, which was an odd comfort in the months he stayed at Capsule Corp.

Was it wrong to feel comfortable around the murderous madman who at one point wanted to destroy Earth (probably still did want to destroy Earth)?

Bulma did, but Bulma tended to do a lot of things that were out of the ordinary or "wrong" by normal standards.

Yet, nothing felt wrong about it. After all, Vegeta didn't leer at her or try to grope her, he never made any commentary on her appearance no matter how she looked. Hell, when she screamed and wrenched a piece of machinery clean off its bolts in the ground he looked almost _impressed_ rather than frightened like other men. It must have been a Saiyan thing. ( _Maybe I should have been born a Saiyan,_ she mused.) He didn't try to calm her down or make weak jokes to companions that Bulma was "on the warpath" and needed to be avoided, he would wait until her moment passed and flash a smirk before continuing with what he was doing.

It was hard to guess when Bulma realized that how she felt about Vegeta, how she viewed him, how she related to him was not just different from Yamcha, her friends, or her family, but _everyone_ she had ever encountered.

It could have started the first time she passed him a shirt that had buttons and realized she needed to show him how to do it. _"Sorry, I forgot you don't have buttons in space. Let me show you,"_ she said kindly.

Vegeta had scoffed and sighed, but acquiesced regardless.

When he pulled off his battlesuit top and Bulma held her breath at the sight of his perfectly cut yet scarred torso, she thought it odd that she had such a reaction. It wasn't the first time she saw a muscular man, it wasn't the first time she saw a semi-nude man. Hell, Tien paraded around without a shirt all the time if not with just one tit hanging out in his usual outfit.

What made Vegeta so different?

She wouldn't bother pondering that for the moment and wrote it off. It must have just been a fluke since he was still altogether new to her. It _was_ the third day he was staying at her house, after all. Bulma pressed it into the back of her mind completely and tried not to let her gaze linger on him too long when she caught sight of the silent guest. Even though Bulma saw no harm in just _looking_ at a man whether she was single or not, she respected Yamcha's wariness around him and the concerns about Vegeta staying at Capsule Corp.

(After all, as her scientific brain had told her, there was no such thing as _destined meetings_ or _The One Special Person You Meet Once In A Lifetime_. It wouldn't do to dwell and wonder about a more than likely one-off flutter of hormones.)

Maybe it was the second week when she had finally gotten her hands on the inner workings of the original gravity machine her father had engineered in the space ship. Vegeta had pushed it a little too far and overheated the thing, with her parents out on a daily walk Bulma volunteered immediately to do the fixing.

Bulma talked, as she did, she would often talk when she was working as it helped keep her focus on what she was doing. It didn't matter whether somebody was listening or not, she would talk. At the time, she had been relating to Vegeta (again, whether he was listening or not) about how the Briefs family had obtained the anti-gravity technology.

_"This dorky little alien named Jaco--I guess he's a space cop or something like that?--He was so impressed by my solution to his fuel problem that he gave us these parts. Good thing he did, or else the science community on Earth wouldn't have been able to get to space at all, even if we were still pretty far behind when you came around."_

Vegeta surprised her by showing he actually was listening, he snorted: _"He was_ impressed _? Your technology is so dated you don't even have proper storage besides those capsules of yours. While they're impressive, if that's all you have to show..."_

She had turned around with a huff of annoyance, glaring at him. _"Okay, smartass, if you're so_ advanced _then why don't you tell me a little about what makes our technology so_ dated _, hmm?"_

If she didn't know better, she would have thought he had looked taken aback by her snipe. He couldn't have been, though, as he sneered haughtily at her next: _"A little? Woman, I am going to tell you_ a lot _about your dated technology."_

He didn't just tell her about the tech he had encountered while working for Frieza, but the ones that Saiyans themselves developed. She had even managed to squeeze some personal information out of him, like that they were only about a year apart in age (give or take a few months with differing calendars in space and Saiyan tube breeding). It had actually been a very fascinating conversation, with Bulma putting a pause to it so she could get out her notes and eagerly scribble down every last thing Vegeta was telling her.

That must have been it. They connected over technology and how little Vegeta cared about appearances. He hardly batted an eye when he'd come to check on her progress on his brand new Gravity Room and see her hard at work, sweating profusely, no makeup whatsoever--no _bra_ , really, because who even had time for _that_?

He would occasionally tsk at her upon noticing some abrasion that she hadn't and bring over the med kit, lightly applying a bandage while criticizing her lack of attention. _"Sooner or later you're going to end up looking like me,"_ he had...joked? She thought it was a joke, like a real joke.

 _"What's wrong with looking like you?"_ she had responded simply.

Vegeta didn't have an answer for that, though she did hear him choke like he wasn't expecting her to say such a thing. _"...I misjudged your thinking, I suppose,"_ he eventually admitted, to which she laughed.

_"Nah, I'd look hot no matter what, silly."_

She was actually sad when the boy from the future came and effectively ended her extra time with Vegeta. The proud Saiyan prince buckled down and trained even more, even longer, he outright refused her offers of snack boxes and told her that he couldn't waste time without so much as an apology.

Well, at least she got him to start calling her by name instead of "woman" or "servant" in the time they had before the countdown to doom began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be in short bursts of chapters for however long I keep this going, I hope everyone has a good week!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Moment happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter one, with some headcanon thrown in for fun.

Bulma would be the first to state, for the record: the countdown to doom could have been avoided if anybody had just _listened_ to her instead of turning it into a glorified dick-waving battle and reliving _the glory days_. But the gang had already gotten the earful from her about how selfish they were being and how many lives would be lost by their carelessness. They had also effectively laughed her off and said she was just being "good old Bulma."

Regardless of what sort of countdown they had hanging over their heads, Bulma wasn't one to let everything stay doom and gloom. She had a big house, she had a resort area with a pool to lounge around in and by, so she invited her friends over to have a small break from training one day. Shocked though she was that everyone showed up (sans Roshi and Oolong since she didn't want to deal with either of those perverts), Bulma was going to play the perfect host anyway (and look good while doing it).

She didn't need to actively play host so much besides checking on everyone since she had robots to take care of drinks and snacks, of course, but watching her friends having fun did feel like a nice little slice of normalcy. There wouldn't be any talks about training or androids (or even about the last disagreement she and Yamcha had, how about _no thanks_.)

Goku had an unusual topic, however, he asked why she hadn't invited Vegeta.

"What?" Bulma responded, her fruity drink's straw just barely touching her lips. "Are you kidding? Vegeta disappeared and reappeared randomly while you were gone, and now with everything going on he just spends all his time training."

"Bulma's right, the guy's obsessed with training," Yamcha cut in, carelessly throwing an arm around her shoulders (much to her annoyance at the presumptuous gesture). "There's no way he would cut loose and spend time with us _peasants_."

Speak of the devil, out of the corner of her eye Bulma caught sight of Vegeta walking past the doorway of the resort room. Something in her prompted the woman to stand up and grab a platter of sushi to take to him. "He loves this stuff," she threw over her shoulder, "He can at least have a snack before going back to training."

She didn't understand why she just couldn't leave Vegeta alone, even when he asked her to, even when her friends would insist that it was too dangerous to "bother" him. There was _something_ that kept pulling her in his direction, just like now--maybe it was the sense of relating? Maybe it was a gut feeling that he was lonely and _needed_ at least one person who wouldn't treat him like a blight whenever he came around.

Whatever it was, she reached out and patted Vegeta on a decidedly sweaty and bare shoulder.

Oh right, he was shirtless again. Okay, Bulma told herself, try not to stare at him like a freak. ( _But why?_ her ever curious and analytical mind would ask. _Why do I get so flustered around him like this? It's not like--_ ) "Hey," she breathed with a smile, holding out the platter of sushi. "You don't have to come out with me, but at least have something before you get back to it. It's your favorite."

Vegeta had a lot of types of food he seemed to enjoy, it was just sushi was a special once in a while treat that put him in a better mood.

He glanced over the rolls and nodded, taking the plate from her. That was all Vegeta ever did when given something, usually people would say their thanks--not Vegeta, of course, just the privilege to be acknowledged by him was enough, of _course_! Bulma expected that.

What she wasn't expecting was Vegeta's attention to be caught by something and a flash of surprise to cross his expression.

"What's the matter?" Bulma blurted out automatically, turning around to see if someone had come up behind them.

Nothing.

She turned back to see Vegeta's gaze moving down, then up.

Wait a moment, she realized, he was looking at _her_.

While Bulma had expected reactions to her red bikini and sheer wraparound skirt, she wasn't expecting one from _Vegeta_. He looked...perplexed, almost embarrassed, which was very unusual for him since the amount of skin she showed wasn't _terribly_ different from the norm. "It's swimwear," she explained, holding out her hands as a means of presenting the whole picture. "On Earth, we wear things like this to swim." It occurred to her that he wouldn't have seen her wear a swimsuit before since the other times she had, she was away at the beach with Yamcha rather than using the pool on the compound; it was only fair to explain to him with no judgment about his ignorance what the purpose was.

"Earthlings have _far_ too many different types of clothes," Vegeta snorted, turning sharply away from her. "It astounds me how one species can be so frivolous."

"Ha, all right, tough guy," she teased back, putting her hands on her hips even while he was walking away. "But you didn't seem to mind the view much!"

That was weird. Was that going too far? Was he going to think she was hitting on him?

No, of course not, Vegeta was Vegeta, and she had learned over time that--contrary to what one would think upon hearing _badass space pirate prince_ \--Vegeta was extremely prudish. Very proper, almost shy in his brusque Saiyan way, which he demonstrated immediately with his ears turning red and his head snapping back to yell: "Vulgar woman!"

He may have graduated from never using her name, but he still used "vulgar woman" for her--it was almost like a nickname, one that she proudly wore with a grin and a wink.

"You know it, Badman!"

Maybe she was imagining it, after that moment in the hallway it felt like Vegeta was _looking_ at her more. He couldn't have been, though. Why would he be? Any time she glanced his way he _wasn't_ looking, so she was definitely imagining it. She must have been tired, overworked, stressed--something like that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion about colors happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this is where the mention of OG series nastiness happens.

"By the way," Yamcha had brought up a few weeks after the _moment_ while they were hanging out and watching a movie, "Master Roshi said he had given Vegeta a housewarming gift a while back. What do you think it was?"

"Knowing him, I don't want to know," Bulma scoffed right back with a roll of her eyes. It was probably a dirty magazine, nothing Vegeta would be interested in, and she had no desire to discuss that.

Yet, for some reason, Yamcha was pushing it. "If it's one of the Master's magazines...I dunno...what if Vegeta gets...ideas? It's not like he doesn't know that Saiyans and humans can..."

Bulma shot up from her position on the couch, standing and glaring down at her boyfriend. "Excuse me, _what_ are you implying there?"

"N...nothing!" he stammered. "Just...be careful, okay?"

"I can take care of myself," she hissed, crossing her arms. "I've _been_ taking care of myself for much longer before I met _you_."

She hadn't meant to reveal that much. She had never discussed that with him before and it was nothing to get _angry_ about, really, Yamcha by no means deserved it! But...she had lost her temper. As usual. Even thinking about the unpleasant implications made her feel unclean. She didn't want to think about Vegeta in the same context as the sort of men that leered at her and tried to prey on her from the moment her body matured in her teen years. He wasn't like that, she knew it deep in her heart, even though her experience told her that was how _all_ men were and how they would _all_ turn out sooner or later. Even sweet and shy Yamcha had started to become somewhat of a ladies' man (at least by her perspective).

She rationalized that and the feeling that Vegeta had been _looking_ at her away. It was easy enough, her ever-working mind drew the next conclusion: he wasn't looking at _her_ , he was looking at her clothes. Rather, he was looking at the choice of color. Whenever Bulma wore pink, he would look annoyed. Whenever Bulma wore red, he looked a little calmer. Ergo: it's the color of her clothes drawing his attention.

"I'm not going to make you wear pink again if it really upsets you," she said to him, bringing the hypothesis to its conclusion while she made omelettes one morning.

Vegeta coughed behind her, probably choking on his coffee. "I wasn't assuming that!" he snapped. "Where in blazes did _that_ come from?!"

"You don't like when I wear pink," Bulma serenely continued, turning over the omelette. "Because it's a girly color? Don't worry, I'm not going to make you--"

" _Girly_?" Vegeta grumbled. "Honestly...what is it with you Earthlings and _gender_? Colors don't have a gender...I just don't like pink."

"Okay...but you like red?"

Silence was her only response.

"Come on," Bulma wheedled as she brought over the first batch of food to him. "I'm not going to make fun of you, it's okay to have a color you like. I just noticed...you act different around me when I'm wearing red?"

Vegeta hummed distantly, poking at his eggs with a fork and a sullen expression. "It's..." he broke off into a mutter. "Back on my planet...red and blue were royal colors," he finally admitted.

Bulma treasured what little bits of information her alien houseguest revealed like priceless gems and never wanted to spoil it by making fun of him. So she didn't. But it did stick in her mind as _very interesting_. He didn't state it as meaning he found it insulting when she wore what was considered a royal color to him--hell, if he had complaints he might have demanded she dye her hair right away.

It also stuck in her mind to wonder why he didn't like pink if it wasn't for reasons of it being a feminine color on Earth.

Maybe if she wore pink around him more often he'd crack sooner or later and reveal why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it would be short burst chapters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief discussion of wishes and princes.

Bulma wouldn't go so far as to say that she and Vegeta were respectful or even friendly _all_ the time, though she enjoyed his company at times a lot of _other_ times he would be an asshole. Sometimes she almost thought he was doing it on purpose just to make her mad and argue with him. Vegeta's eyes would get a strange glint and he would get a crooked sort of _grin_ on his face when Bulma grew particularly heated while arguing with him. Poor guy, she concluded, he must have so little stimulation in the fighting department he can only get it by riling her up.

However, she actually didn't mind. If he liked their arguments, she _loved_ them (as twisted as that might have sounded). Nobody _ever_ stood up to her the way Vegeta did just as she figured vice versa for him. Every other person in her life would hunker down and cringe away, giving in to her demands, no challenge whatsoever.

Boring.

Not _him_ , though, he stood proud (though not tall) and faced her down with an authoritative tone. There was never a winner in their fights, but that was okay. They would get their frustration and energy out, then stomp off only to do it another time when their energy boiled over again.

It was worth it to see the cocky expression on his face. She didn't know if it was another thing she would need to talk to a therapist about that Bulma was finding Vegeta more and more handsome by the day.

 _What the hell?_ her rational mind told her. _You know that the whole dashing prince thing is bullshit, right. And even though he is a prince, he's certainly not_ your _prince. And he's_ not _handsome either! He's short, he's got a forehead as big as his ego and a temper to match. Not to mention he's a prude, so it's not like he'd satisfy you_ there _either._

No, Vegeta wasn't her type, or...wasn't what she thought her type was. She wouldn't have given him a second glance as a teenager, more than likely. Was it a matter of growing older, or was it just the security and fondness she already had towards him? Would it have been _him_ that appeared if she had gotten to make her wish all those years ago?

"I can't even imagine," she muttered.

"Imagine what?"

The question came with the soft _thunk_ of a cup on the table, Bulma looked up from her coffee to see Vegeta settling in for his own cup in the morning. "You'll think it's stupid," she said.

"That has not stopped you from spouting off any of your inanities before," Vegeta easily retorted with a smirk.

Despite herself, Bulma chuckled while shaking her head. "Shut up, jerk!" Her laughter trailed off quickly as she gazed into her reflection in the brown surface of her coffee. "When I first met Goku, I was hunting the Dragon Balls...I wanted to wish for my prince."

"What? What for? That's an absurd wish, what good would a prince do you?" Vegeta asked with that bizarre brand of innocence only he seemed to have. Not an innocence like Goku, of course, not by a long shot, just an unaware almost-sheltered _gullible_ quality to how he thought and spoke. "You're already wealthy, you would hardly benefit from the status. That doesn't make any sense."

"I was sixteen," she answered with a wry smile in return. "You're not exactly rational when you're sixteen." Before Vegeta could snottily answer he _assuredly_ was peak rational as a teenager, Bulma continued: "I was lonely, that was all. I had this idea that if I had someone who loved me for me...that person would definitely be _my_ prince."

Strangely, Vegeta did not have a snarky comeback for her. He stayed silent for a moment, looking into his own mug with what appeared to be genuine consideration. "I don't understand that notion. Needing to wish for companionship. I would have thought it would come easy to you."

Bulma knew enough to realize that was Vegeta's version of being nice, pointing out that she was indeed very open and social. "Thanks, but...it's not actually that simple..." she broke off, shaking her head and standing to dump out her coffee. Nope. He didn't need her to spill her guts out about being unsure if someone was getting close to her to use her or not over the years. That would be a distraction, he didn't need the distraction he would tell her, he wanted to train. And she wanted him to train, too, after all--how else would he get stronger to fight the androids? "Mm, anyway, Mom left breakfast in the fridge, I'm gonna do some work in the lab, so call if you need anything."

If Vegeta replied, Bulma didn't know, she left him and the whole conversation at the table with thoughts of her projects pushing out anything else in mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cracks in armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panchy really does have a thing for Vegeta's huge...manly...
> 
> Forehead.

Bulma's mother frequently commented on how handsome Vegeta was, especially while Bulma was sketching to try and work out armor designs _for_ Vegeta.

It was almost like her own mother was goading her into pursuing Vegeta, which--frankly--it _was_ absolutely what she was doing. But Bulma ignored her, as was usual for when her mother got on these kicks.

It was easier to ignore it than to consider how much lifelike detail she was putting into what was supposed to be a sketch just for a design. She was even filling in some of the scars she had noted, which she wouldn't usually do for a design layout.

Bulma realized, on the third time her mother was making a statement about how "cute" and "individualistic" Vegeta's massive forehead was, she hadn't put any armor design ideas on her sketch and was just making it more and more detailed. She scowled at herself and wrote it off as being distracted by Panchy's ramblings. "Mom, I'm trying to work," she scolded, pulling the tablet closer to her chest. "Can you creep on Vegeta another time or...somewhere else? Or maybe _not_ creep on him at all?" _Because that's sexual harassment?_

"Aw, honey, are you jealous?" Panchy cooed, her facade of obliviousness fully in place. "You could always make a move on that gentleman yourself, I think he's actually _very_ interested."

"We've been over this, Mom, no he's not," Bulma answered with a roll of her eyes. "The guy just has a thing about colors, possibly some trauma related to pink, but he's a prude-- _maybe_ even a virgin, not that it's our business at all."

People could accuse Bulma of being a pervert all they liked (somehow it was okay for them to be sexual, but not her in response?) but she had no desire to learn about the status of porn in space. Not to mention whether her houseguest had bumped uglies with some indeterminate alien before coming down to Earth.

(Not to mention why that idea made her feel oddly similar to "sick with jealousy.")

Dammit, she was actually _shading the weird divots on his stupid forehead now!_ Bulma stood up in a huff, taking her work out of the living room and to her lab. At least _there_ she had Vegeta's old armor from Namek to look at and puzzle over for design ideas.

It occurred to her that she should have asked Vegeta for ideas to save the trouble. Despite the logic in that thought, Bulma liked having a project to occupy her mind and wouldn't act on the thought. She couldn't contribute to the _absolutely avoidable_ fight in the "conventional" way, of course, so she could at least use her genius to contribute another way. He wouldn't have wanted the interruption, either, and--though Bulma loved their arguments--she didn't want to take time away from his training. Vegeta wanted to become a Super Saiyan so badly and...Bulma admired his drive to achieve his goal. It wasn't common to see someone who was so dedicated.

...Ugh, was she going to end up comparing Vegeta to Yamcha every time now? Thinking about her status of "maybe, maybe not" with him was aggravating. The fights with him weren't fun at all, they involved too much self-examination and wondering about choices in life. She was rehearsing the script for the closing act of "I think we're better off as friends" almost nightly now.

(He had probably been, too.)

To drive herself out of her own absurd thoughts, Bulma projected the drawing she had been working on to her big screen while still working on her tablet.

Then she color-filled Vegeta's shorts to pink.

It was a ridiculous motion and the image of a lifelike Vegeta glaring down at her from a giant screen was scary, but it made her feel better.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" she heard an offended growl from behind her. "When did you get this picture of--and why is there _pink_?!"

Ah, lovely, Mr. Congeniality himself. Bulma smiled sweetly as she turned and regarded the grouchy prince. "What do you mean, Vegeta? I drew this picture, I didn't get it from anywhere besides my own skill."

He didn't seem to know how to answer that as his mouth comically gaped for a moment like a fish, his gaze drawing lines between her and the screen. "You...drew that," he repeated the information as though trying to confirm it to himself and her. "Why in the galaxies would you--and-- _but why the pink_?!"

"I'm working on an armor design for you!" she laughed. "The pink was just for fun. Even geniuses like me get bored, too, you know."

"Take that _off_ , now!" he demanded.

Oh, he was too easy. Her grin broadened. "The shorts? Why, Vegeta, you're assuming I have a nude version of this drawing, how vulgar, Your Highness~"

Vegeta's appearance next was very similar to her mother's tea kettle, she was sure steam would blow out of his ears and a whistle would sound as his face grew redder and redder with shame. "Vulgar woman! You know what I _meant_! Remove that repulsive color this _instant_!"

"Fine," Bulma tsked, erasing the pink, turning back to her work in progress. "As much as I enjoy your charming personality, though, why are you in here? Did something happen with the equipment?"

After a pause, Vegeta seemed to decide that the topic was safe enough to broach as he took a seat on the stool in the corner. He had his _official, serious business_ expression on--must have used that for more delicate situations in space (not that she could imagine him being delicate). "Not precisely, I've come to discuss making the bots' AI more aggressive."

"Ah, so you want to hurt yourself more," Bulma's tone was light yet tinged with concern. "I don't know, Vegeta..."

The first time the ship had blown up was truly frightening to her. To Vegeta, not so much, as he simply shored himself up and went back to work, much to her chagrin.

"I am not hurting _myself_ ," he insisted. "The bots would be, that's the _point_ \--if I were hurting _myself,_ it wouldn't be proper training. The natural boost Saiyans get from recovering from an injury wouldn't _work_."

The way he spoke about it implied a lot of things, like that he had _tried_ to hurt himself in desperation to take advantage of his Saiyan biology before only to learn it didn't work that way. Bulma repressed the shiver that came with the knowledge but couldn't stop her posture from becoming rigid. "I see."

He seemed to notice, a worrying prospect that he could so readily read her cues. "If you view it as harming me yourself, don't. You are only aiding my training." He gave an exaggerated sigh and shrug before: "If anything, you've _impeded_ attempts to harm me with your blasted _concern_ and insistence on first aid."

A wry smile cracked over Bulma's face at that. Vegeta was being uncharacteristically sweet with her more recently, like he actually cared about how she felt--which couldn't have been possible, naturally, but it was a nice thought.

(Almost romantic, in a weird way. But it wouldn't do to think about Vegeta and romance.)

"Okay, tough guy. Let's talk about this AI, then--" The chirp of her phone interrupted that thought. Bulma glanced down to see a text from Yamcha with a proposition about going out. A wave of dread washed over her, not a response that should exist at the idea of going out with her _boyfriend_ , before she pointedly looked away from the phone. "Maybe you can give some input about what you want in armor?"

Vegeta paused, seeming to be considering the proposition, looking over the drawing of himself and over to the old, damaged armor.

His eyes lingered on the hole over where his heart would have been.

It didn't take a genius to realize that was Frieza's killing shot.

"I can't promise that will never happen again," Bulma said gently, standing to...she wasn't sure what. Vegeta stood to meet her regardless (likely he didn't want anybody in a position of dominance over him). "But I can make sure that your armor is only the best quality and exactly how you want it."

"You're a strange person," he responded. "You shouldn't want to help me when I will only kill Kakarot later."

"You'd have to get past me before getting to Goku," Bulma retorted with a smirk. "And I'm a pretty opponent _and_ a pretty tough one."

Vegeta huffed with a half-roll of his eyes. "Foolish, vulgar woman."

"A _genius_ , you forget!" she chirped back with deliberately obnoxious pep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma does not have a very good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Yes I'm still aware nobody asked for a sympathetic angle on Bulma and the events are cliche as hell, but I'm doing it anyway  
> 2\. While this isn't quite aligned with the timeline of when Housewarming happened YET, it does inspire the...events of it (in Vegeta's lil pea brain)

She should have just stayed at home.

In fact, the moment when she arrived and saw Yamcha _surrounded_ by his baseball buddies, each and everyone of them hooting and hollering at the girls who passed them by, she turned around and left.

_Why did he bring them all?_ Bulma thought to herself with a low thrum of horror beating in her stomach. _I thought it was just supposed to be a date between us!_

Didn't he recognize how _weird_ it looked to be on a date surrounded by your friends? Bulma couldn't bear the idea of being surrounded by so many men either, watching her every move with her boyfriend. Not to mention how they were _all_ whistling and catcalling women, they were surely goading Yamcha into joining them. So why did he even bother inviting _her_?

His pitiful excuse later, as he told her over the phone, was to have her acting as a buffer between him and the attempts by his cohorts into getting him to play along.

"You wanted to use me as a _shield_?" she sighed into the receiver, having discarded her jacket and heels long ago to prop herself up on the bar counter of her living room.

_"You'd do the same thing if you were with your girls, B,"_ Yamcha argued back, a slight crackle of static accompanying his slurs.

"You think I have that many friends, Yamcha?" She didn't have _any_ , really, she had grown out of them a long time ago when it became clear what they were after with befriending her. "And besides...it's..." Bulma groaned, rubbing her forehead with her free hand and subsequently smearing concealer on it, only adding to her frustration. "It's _different_ , don't you get it? How do you think I would have felt being surrounded by a bunch of drunk guys? What if they started getting _friendly_ with me and you just wrote it off because they're your _teammates_?"

_"I would never do that, Bulma!"_ Yamcha sounded offended. But still drunk, confirming to Bulma that there was still a possibility he would have "just happened" to not notice anything like that.

"So you're saying you would have protected me? When you _just_ admitted that you were--?"

They were going into that mode of arguing again, raising their voices, talking over each other and making accusations. Yamcha was in the middle of saying something about Bulma jumping to conclusions while Bulma was gearing up to snap back that he just didn't want to see it her way because she was "no fun" when the sound of an explosion rocked the kitchen.

"I have to go," she cut herself off with a parting.

_"You're going to take care of_ him _again, aren't you?"_ Yamcha's sullen accusation replied.

"Call me when you're sober."

_Click._

It was a good thing she had taken off her heels, it made sprinting down the hall to the GR that much easier, though assessing any damage within would be the hardest part.

The ghastly sight that greeted Bulma when she opened the door with her override code almost made what little she had to eat before leaving come back up; Vegeta was sprawled out on the floor in a puddle of his blood, some drag marks evidently showing him going to engage emergency mode before passing out. Bulma didn't bother with screaming out his name, he likely wouldn't be able to hear her, she ran to his side and checked--heartbeat, faint but present. Breathing, shallow but present. Wounds?

She grimaced--it looked like one of the bots had blasted him in the back while another shot rapidly all over. Bulma gingerly hoisted up the Saiyan, mindful of the sickening smell of carnage and burnt flesh as well as his wounds. "It's okay, Vegeta," she murmured, more for reassuring herself than him, "I've got you. I'm going to fix you up."

* * *

Vegeta had told her not to blame herself for any injuries he sustained in his training, despite her natural inclination to think so since _she_ had built and programmed the bots. Bulma understood, she knew that he needed near death, life threatening, strenuous--all of that to get stronger. Her more intellectual side even encouraged it.

Despite that...her emotional side, her soft and caring heart, still felt guilt and concern at his condition. He might not think so if she said anything about it, but Vegeta had become like a friend to her in his time at Capsule Corp. At the very least she considered them allies, if Vegeta refused the idea of friendship.

She would never mention any of that to him, of course, she didn't want to pressure or confuse the man.

After getting him cleaned up (pointedly avoiding removing any clothing since she couldn't pass the duty off onto any med personnel, thanking her lucky stars that she _could_ since his injuries were more along the torso and head area), wrapped up, and hooked up, Bulma went to wash her face. She removed any trace of makeup with some relief, she washed any blood that ended up on her _before_ she was able to put on gloves.

She checked how she looked.

Yep. It was still Bulma Briefs looking back at her. Albeit, a more tired and worried-looking version. She critically poked at the dark circles that had begun to show up under her eyes, shaking her head and sighing. Her hair had fallen out of the ponytail she put it up in and now hung around her in a frizzy, curled mess that perfectly represented the cloud of static and nerves buzzing inside of her brain. She wasted her time doing her hair, doing her makeup, hell--she even wasted time with picking out a cute dress. Yamcha didn't deserve to see her at her best if he was just going to use her as a shield.

_You're a mess, Bulma,_ she thought. _After this, you need a vacation._

(But then where would that leave everyone else? She couldn't just shove off all business and Vegeta duties onto her parents. It would be irresponsible.)

She was...so tired. Between the disastrous not-date and now...Bulma's shoulders dropped, bearing the weight of exhaustion and all of her clamorous thoughts.

All that she could do then was settle at the desk by the bed and try to sleep, resolving to call Goku in the morning about bringing those miraculous beans over for Vegeta.

* * *

It was the creak of the bed and the rapid beeping of machines that startled her awake next.

Bulma shot up, rather ungracefully considering her mouth had fallen open while she was asleep, and looked over to see Vegeta sitting up staring at her in surprise.

They looked at each other for a moment, each not quite knowing what the other was thinking while their own thoughts were racing.

Finally, Bulma gave him a lopsided smile and said: "I think we made the AI too aggressive."

"I like your dress," he responded back in a half-awake sort of dopey tone.

"What?" Bulma asked, thinking she must have not actually been awake--or Vegeta's head injury was worse than she thought.

Vegeta frowned, shaking his head. "I meant...make yourself decent."

"What?" Bulma repeated before looking down-- _OH!_ She flushed with shame, realizing the thin straps had fallen down in her haste, exposing _much_ more cleavage than she would ever on _purpose_. "R-right, uh, whatever," she mumbled, straightening herself out. "Your fault for looking," she half-heartedly retorted.

"You're slipping," Vegeta commented, clearly unbothered. "Don't waste my time with weak banter and--for that matter-- _do not_ fix the bots, their AI was perfect. It was my own fault for getting distracted."

It occurred to her that she should ask what he was distracted by before deciding that it must have been a heat of the moment battle thing that she wouldn't get because she wasn't _a big strong Saiya-man rah rah rah_. Bulma shrugged, trying to not make it obvious how much his injuries still bothered her. How scared she was. "Well...I guess it'd be a waste of time trying to tell you to get some rest."

"Naturally," he dryly snorted.

"So...when it's morning, I'll contact Goku and see if he has any of those beans."

That was that. Looking at her watch, Bulma could determine that Goku wouldn't have been awake at _2 AM_ anyway, even Vegeta could accept that. Maybe.

Surprising her, however, Vegeta sighed. "No, give yourself some rest first. Call Kakarot when you're ready." A pause, he squirmed. "You look like a disaster, after all, it wouldn't do anybody any favors should you collapse in on yourself."

Bulma tried not to gape at him like an idiot, yet she did. Did Vegeta just...was he _being considerate_ towards her? Looking out for her? Putting her needs before his? She didn't want to freak out and make a big deal out of it, since that would _definitely_ jinx everything (and she wasn't convinced this wasn't some strange dream) so Bulma only nodded. "Yeah...I'll do that. You, um, you need anything before I go?"

He took a moment to think about it. "Water, I suppose."

Easy enough, after retrieving a nice, cool water bottle from the mini fridge nearby and passing it over to him, Bulma paused. Vegeta seemed to notice her hesitation as he glared up at her with his usual charm. "What do you want _now_?"

Bulma smiled softly, reaching out and brushing against his cheek with her thumb. "Thank you."

He sputtered, a faint blush coming to his cheeks. Usually Bulma would have further teased him but for the moment turned away to head back to her room.

It was a strange night. Strange, disappointing, frightening...yet...Vegeta would more than likely never realize how much that little gesture (that was probably nothing to him) meant in the dark mire of Bulma's mind. A little royal blue spark among the black and white static.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also Bulma's [dress](https://bestclotheshop.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/short-light-pink-dresses-for-juniors-13.jpg). It really was wasted on a shittastic night tho.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma almost reaches a breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're at the point of "congruent with the events that went on from Vegeta's perspective."
> 
> Also Bulma has a pretty rough time.

When Yamcha called her again, he wasn't necessarily sober--more like hungover, but it was good enough she supposed.

 _"I didn't think it would make you so uncomfortable, I just panicked and called you because I didn't want to do something stupid,"_ he explained.

Bulma wanted to be the perfect and understanding girlfriend who could sympathize with his fears, at the same time... "So, you can only not cheat on me when I'm around?"

_"I didn't mean it like that! I should be the one that's annoyed, anyway--you ditched me for Vegeta."_

Anger flared up in her, so much for being the perfect and understanding girlfriend. "Excuse me? Are you suggesting that _I'm_ cheating on you with Vegeta? Geez, Yamcha, if you're going to be like that I _wish_ I was!"

No, she didn't. Cheating was an abhorrent idea to her, no matter how unhappy she was.

_"He could never make you happy..."_

True, she could agree with that. (It wasn't like she was expecting a relationship with Vegeta besides friendship?) However: "You don't make me happy, either. I'm not happy."

 _"You'd_ never _be happy! You want me to cut my hair because you don't like guys with long hair, you want me to be more like a city guy--well, I am now! And you're not happy!"_

True, Bulma hadn't considered what sort of changes she had made Yamcha go through. That he went through to make her happy. "Yet, here we are, years later still acting like teenagers with your stupid little fan club of girls and you complaining about what a spoiled brat Bulma is demanding your attention when--oh I don't know--she _let you live in her house_." Her voice raised to a pitch. "She helped you make a living in the city. Gee, what a horrible, awful, _spoiled brat_ Bulma is! She won't even let you get into a dick-waving contest with Goku at the risk of _Earth's entire population!"_

_"Now hold on..."_

Too late, Bulma was erupting. "Now I'm not useful anymore, huh Yamcha! Now you know _all_ about city life and talking to girls! Thanks, I'm glad to be a _stepping stone_ for your climb up the social ladder, like for _everybody else_!"

She slammed the phone down on the receiver before Yamcha could reply, breathing heavily, trying not to burst into tears at that moment.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be perfect for each other. They were supposed to be the happy, destined couple brought together by fate.

 _There is no such thing as fate or destiny, those are illogical concepts created by humans to put meaning to random happenings_ , her detached scientific brain reminded her. _In reality, it was random. In reality, you were useful for a time, but now_ nobody _needs you anymore._

Her emotional, critical brain chimed in: _That must be why you're so drawn to Vegeta, isn't it? Because he needs you. You're so pathetic you can't_ handle _the idea of not being the center of attention. Well, your novelty is worn off--you're too_ old _to be a prodigy now, now you're just a bitchy boss that thinks she's smarter than everyone else. But look at you--you can't even keep a guy because you're such a workaholic that doesn't want to have fun, because you're a prude that doesn't want to try anything, because you're so demanding, because you're--_

Bulma screamed over her thoughts. Just screamed in her room, knowing she couldn't be heard, and even if she was heard--who would come? Nobody cared about her.

 _I'm lonely_ , she thought.

* * *

Since the call with Yamcha and the radio silence between them, Bulma had been waking up at precisely 4 AM. She didn't know why, she would only lay in bed, roll around, try to go back to sleep and fail. She wasn't even thinking about anything in particular.

She would dream, however. She wouldn't remember any of them, but they were definitely dreams. Muddled and washed out images of darkness and nothing.

There was one Bulma could just barely grasp onto the memory of--Vegeta was in it. She didn't know what he was doing or what she was doing, but something about it was comforting.

Weird idea to feel comfort about seeing _Vegeta_ of all people. She was really messed up, wasn't she?

At least, this morning, her waking up at a hellish hour would be useful, the Briefs happened to have a meeting at CC's main office building. Bulma could devote her time to "fixing herself up" properly, put on enough concealer to hide the dark circles, blend, style, wash, rinse, repeat.

She hated getting dressed for office meetings, though.

At first, Bulma framed it with the logic of "at least I'll look good while doing it"--but after a while she grew to despise the trappings of official business. The pencil skirt wrapped so tightly around her down to her knees she almost felt like she was being imprisoned. The pantyhose was equally cumbersome and felt like she was slowly wrapping herself up like a tasty treat to be presented towards carnivores. The blouse...she had always hated the blouse. A pink chiffon number that asymmetrically draped in the front, just barely showing a hint of cleavage so the idiots will keep their eyes on her (even if it was on her chest). It wasn't even her idea, it was her mother's to make _sure_ she looked properly "professional."

The heels weren't even fun, plain black pumps; she was used to walking in them and exercised enough so she wasn't sore afterwards, but they still weren't fun.

Nothing lately was very much fun. She might have been depressed. Maybe she _did_ need to see a therapist right away.

But first, coffee.

* * *

After about an hour, Vegeta stumbled into the kitchen looking strangely disturbed--he must have had a bad dream. Not that she would know if he had been screaming in his sleep, he had requested his room be soundproofed a while ago.

She observed him from beneath the half lids of her eyes as she drank her coffee.

He was _looking_ at her.

Not in the perturbed way he would get sometimes when he saw her wearing pink, he seemed almost...bashful. About what, who even knew, Vegeta was an enigma in himself.

Bulma greeted him with a faint smile, the exhaustion of her unusual sleeping patterns weighing down on her. Vegeta didn't bother greeting back, which was normal for him.

What wasn't normal was his blasé reaction to saying she and her father would be gone for the day. Usually he would goad her into an argument afterwards to get his kicks, yet he remained silent, staring down at the table as though it offended him.

Further cementing the idea that Vegeta must have had a nightmare of some kind or was otherwise _extremely_ off his game, he stopped her before she could leave, mumbling something about...

"You don't...look hideous today."

Bulma didn't mean to laugh, but she did--in her defense, it was very funny hearing Vegeta trying to say something _nice_ in a tone that he realized it was completely out of character for him. He was...being more complimentary about her looks lately, between saying he liked her (pink) dress and now this...was he all right? Did he think he was going to die soon and didn't want to go out with regrets? Odd that he would care enough about that to make an effort to be nicer to her.

"Thanks, tough guy, you don't look like such a freak-show yourself!"

Actually, she didn't think he looked freaky at all. Vegeta looked _different_ from other people, of course, since he wasn't a human. There was a sort of _alien_ quality to him that set him apart no matter how much Saiyans looked like humans, even if one couldn't exactly put their finger on it.

However, it didn't bother her. Bulma accepted that she thought Vegeta was attractive.

The idea that he might have thought the same, though of course she was _very_ beautiful, wasn't...normal. Not normal at all. She could go off into a goofy fantasy about "the beast" falling for "the beauty" or whatever, but it just plain wasn't part of Vegeta's character to think such a thing.

So, she diverted it. She told him he was acting strange and needed to get some breakfast right away, hopefully he would feel better and act more like himself then. Vegeta's response of grumbling and blushing while looking...annoyed was expected for him, at the same time...Bulma couldn't help but wonder if he was annoyed that she wasn't accepting a compliment from him as genuine.

_Nah...no way._

* * *

"Nah, no way, he's a weirdo, and--frankly--I think you're weird for liking him so much," her family's personal tailor commented to her later.

Corduroy, a short fawn-colored dog-man with huge ears and a long muzzle, had been with the family for ages. It might have seemed like a ridiculous idea that a family as rich as the Briefs would need a tailor when they could simply buy whatever they needed, but that was too...impersonal. And Corduroy was _absolutely_ personal--he didn't pull punches and told things like they were, Bulma had found herself spilling her guts to him from time to time. He had almost as many solutions for the problems of life as he did pockets in his vest.

"Although," he continued, fixing her with a severe stare from over the top of his glasses, big brown eyes--usually adorable--looking _keen_ with judgment. "Can't say I'm a huge fan of how Yams has been treating you lately either, or you him."

"I know..." Bulma muttered, half-defensively. "I know it's been really bad lately...but..."

"Bulma. Baby. Sweetie. Bunny-boo." Corduroy pointedly snapped his measuring tape shut. "Do you wanna keep hurting Yamcha, or what?"

"No!"

"Do you want him to keep hurting you?"

"No..."

"Then you're going to have to have a talk with him. Like a real, full talk that doesn't involve a bunch of screaming and cutting things off to stare longingly off at the stars or anything."

"I don't--"

Another severe stare. Bulma sighed. She hated it when he was spot-on about things, but then again he probably smelled it out with his nose. "Okay...I'll call him over later. He's a good guy, he deserves better."

"Personally, I think he's hella in love with that minimum-of-one-tit-out-at-a-time guy."

 _What kind of weird nickname was_ that _for Tien?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Corduroy is a corgi  
> 2\. The blouse looks like [this](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/fd/95/55/fd9555f804624db49aa4f73b56eb76b4.jpg)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Yamcha have their talk. 
> 
> It goes well.
> 
> Bulma's not out of the woods yet, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh right I was on a mini vacation from work for a while but now I'm going back sssoooooo, take this, enjoy it. Next chapter will sync up with Resuscitation.

The easiest part was actually calling Yamcha to invite him over.

The hardest part was him pausing for a moment and directing her attention to his phone where he had typed, _Vegeta is nearby in the kitchen. Do we want to do this with him around?_

Bulma shook her head no. Vegeta could hear absurdly well, just the same as Goku could—of course, Saiyans were just _so_ much better than humans! She quickly typed out on her own phone, _He scampers as soon as we start yelling. Are you willing to play along?_

Yamcha nodded, took a deep breath, and: "So what's this _about_ , Bulma?" he affected a harsh tone. "You ignore me all week because you're _working_ , right? Now you're calling me over?"

"Yeah, because we need to _talk_ ," she snipped back, trying not to let her actual frustration at the situation consume her. "And I _have_ been working!"

"Yeah _right_ ," Yamcha scoffed, adding a roll of his eyes for emphasis. "More like you've been _taking care of_ Vegeta. You pay more attention to that guy than me or your _actual_ friends!"

"Are you kidding?" Bulma groaned. "Vegeta is training himself to death to fight these androids and he doesn't even _care_ about Earth. Maybe if you devoted as much time to training as you did to flirting with other girls and accusing me of making time with Vegeta...!"

A pause, Yamcha canted his head as if listening. "...Okay, I can't sense his ki anymore. He went back to the GR." He straightened up with a grimace. "Also: Ouch."

"Sorry," Bulma sighed. "But...do you really feel that way?"

"A little," he admitted. "If this is what I think it's about, then...well, I'm worried that something might happen between you and him, and there's no way he would ever want to commit to something longterm."

She agreed, of course, it was only common sense. Vegeta was single-mindedly intent on defeating Goku and frequently talked about how much he hated Earth. Whatever happened between them, should something happen, he would toss it aside like garbage and stomp all over her feelings. He would pretend that they didn't even have a cordial relationship as it stood. He would just...

"Bulma," Yamcha's gentle voice broke through her thoughts, his hands coming over to cup her face and gently pull her gaze up to meet his. "You know I'll still be here even if he's not."

"I know," she answered with a bitter smile, feeling the tears begin to come. "But...we're not happy as a _couple_ anymore. That's what I've been thinking about."

"...Me, too." He closed his eyes as though wracked with pain at the sight of Bulma's sadness. "I was just scared to let go."

"Me, too," Bulma agreed with a nod, reaching up to take his wrist as a signal that he could let go now. "You're a great guy, Yamcha, you deserve someone who...actually wants what you want for a longterm relationship."

He chuckled. "Thanks...I guess deep down I knew all along 'married with kids' wasn't what you wanted, but I was naive and thought we would 'grow into it' or whatever. But...it just wasn't the right time. And I wasn't the right guy." Though he let go of her face, Yamcha still held her hands, looking at her seriously. "I just want you to be happy. Even if we weren't the destined couple like we thought, you're still my friend."

In reality, Bulma thought she would feel more hollow with the conversation, but she didn't. She felt relief, sweet painless relief. She hoped Yamcha was, too. She looked down at their hands, linked together—something was ill-fitting about how it felt.

(Deep down, she knew it always had felt ill-fitting.)

"Don't get me wrong, Yamcha," she tsked, "It's not like I think Vegeta is the 'right guy' either. He may be a prince, but he's not _my_ prince."

"For sure," Yamcha easily responded. "But, like...whatever you end up doing with him, I'm glad you wanted to break it off with me before doing anything."

Bulma swallowed down the hurt that she felt at Yamcha ever even _considering_ such a thing. That sort of thing was a thought that occurred to lots of people normally, especially if they were on such rocky terms that they frequently were. "Cheating isn't my style."

"I know." He grinned with that charm that always made Bulma feel better even while she was in the heat of being incensed at something he had done. "Bet nobody but me knows that the prodigy heir of Capsule Corp. is really a sentimental gal who believes in true love."

She giggled, unable to deny it—it was true, ever since she was a little girl, even while it was an extremely illogical conclusion, Bulma had always believed in the idea of The One and true love. Cheating on one's true love just wasn't how it was supposed to go.

But they were focused far too much on her, she decided. Thus—"Sorry, Yamcha, I have to know...did you ever...?"

He shook his head firmly. "No. I flirted with the girls who would flirt with me, yes. I hooked up with people when we were broken up, yes. But I never touched anybody else while we were together. I couldn't bear the thought of that."

"Were you happy with them?" she asked. "Did you feel like you loved them?"

"Nah...it was just hookups in the end. Hell, I only ever felt really happy when I could get away from the city for a while and hang out with Tien."

A small smile came to her face. "Then maybe you should date Tien."

They laughed, genuinely.

"Cute, B, but we all know the guy is the definition of discipline—he could have had _Launch_ and turned her down!"

"True enough, although to be fair to him Launch came on pretty strongly..."

Their conversation went on for a while, about various topics and nothing at all. Bulma felt peace for the first time in a long time with Yamcha, she hoped he felt it too. When their coffee was drained from their mugs, he stood to leave.

"Remember, Bulma," he told her seriously. "Even if we didn't work out as a couple, I'm still your friend. If you need anything at all, call me, I'll come runnin'."

"Just don't trip," she quipped back, standing to push on his shoulder playfully. He pulled her into one of his trademark warm and loving bearhugs as he laughed.

When Yamcha left, Bulma finally felt that hollowness she had expected from the entire topic, but it wasn't because that they had broken up officially _permanently._

She realized that she was all alone again and probably would be for a very long time.

* * *

If anybody noticed that she was working (and smoking) more, nobody said anything.

An evil little part of her mind that she _often_ had to push back down (it was the threat of ever feeling anything less than great about herself, colloquially called _low self worth_ , no thank you!) whispered that nobody cared. Bulma told that side of her to shut up and she cared enough about herself to make up for people not realizing how great she was.

"I'm surprised your hair hasn't turned grey with all of that _ash_ you spew out," a sarky voice sneered from above her.

Bulma grit her teeth, cigarette balanced precariously between going out and still lit, only her eyes moved up to see Vegeta arrogantly poised on the core she was working on. He was leaning on his elbows and staring down at her with a haughty casualness that made her want to punch him in the face—did he _have_ to look like a nosy neighbor?!

More to the point: "Big talk coming from a guy who looks like he stuck his finger in an electric socket."

He clicked his tongue, sounding almost like a teacher scolding a naughty student as he said: "Again, you're slipping."

"So are you," she retorted. "My _hair_? Is that all you've got? Buddy, I've heard _worse_ things about my hair over the years, shit that would make _your_ hair turn white."

Vegeta slipped, literally that time, he stumbled, mouth fallen open slightly in surprise. "People...insult your hair?"

That was a weird reaction, why did he sound so surprised? Bulma had gotten quite a few taunts about her hair and the "freaky" color over the years ( _"it doesn't even match her parents, is it natural?" "She dyes it for attention." "Maybe she's not even human."_ ); if not taunts, people who exoticized her to an uncomfortable degree. The evil little part of her that wanted to mope about it didn't like it, wanted to wail how unfair it was that she got thrust into such a dichotomy against her will. The rest of her fought back against any of that nonsense by expressing herself through her hair as much as possible. It was the usual pattern for her over the years.

"Uh, yeah? It's not a common color." She squinted at him suspiciously. "Why do you look offended? You were insulting my hair just now yourself."

He had no reply then, still staring down at her, now with an expression of thoughtfulness that looked entirely out of place on him.

Okay, Vegeta.exe is not responding, Bulma thought to herself with a roll of her eyes. "If you're done dicking around, leave me alone, I have to finish this core so I can update the GR."

"All of my people had black hair," he said suddenly. "Coming to Earth, I noticed that there was more of a diversity in hair color—not to mention more of a fixation on how it looks."

"Okay...?" Bulma had stubbed out the cigarette by now.

"...It didn't occur to me that on your planet, there would be colors considered...unusual, or uncommon."

"Cool, congratulations, you learned something new about humans," Bulma scoffed. "So—"

"I like your hair," he mumbled so quietly and so quickly she almost didn't hear. Before Bulma could respond, Vegeta blinked out of existence—not teleporting like Goku could, but phasing out with his speed.

"...Cool..." Bulma mumbled, not quite knowing how to feel about what had just transpired.

 _It's suspicious. Something is wrong with him,_ her detached, scientific brain warned her.

"...Yeah, no doubt about it, something is wrong with him," she confirmed to herself, trying not to let the flattered feeling bubble up inside of her chest.

Vegeta had been acting out of the norm for a while now, ever since that last knock he got in the GR. He must have hit his head and somehow exacerbated the odd streak of _niceness_ he had been developing with her before.

Maybe it was a Saiyan thing to hit their heads and become nice all of a sudden.

Whatever it was, Bulma didn't like the distinct impression she was getting that Vegeta _might_ have reciprocated her feeling of attraction. No way. That wasn't possible.

Even if it was, sooner or later he would snap out of it and go back to training harder than ever and treating her badly. She reminded herself, it was the truth after all, that the nature of people was to use her and toss her aside when she lost her usefulness. Even Yamcha, in their very productive and thoughtful conversation, didn't once bring up her last declaration that she wasn't useful anymore. So it must have been a confirmation.

The part of her that wanted to mope was strong today.


End file.
